Bristol Bay Summer

by Annie Boochever

  They had somehow made it all the way up the beach to the tundra. Zoey was shocked. She had no idea how they had ended up here, but it didn’t matter now.

  She could just make out the outline of something tall and dark through the blowing sand and rain. What … ? She pulled Eliot toward the shape. Then, she knew. It was the old fishing boat! This was the lucky break they needed. Now she just had to get them inside. She stumbled down the side of the hill and Eliot crashed into her at the bottom. When they got to the boat, Lhasa put her front paws up on the stern and they shoved her up. Then Zoey and Eliot crawled up the deck. Heavy raindrops splashed around them.

  The cabin door banged wildly. Lhasa wouldn’t go near it until Zoey shoved her body against it to hold it steady and block the wind. When they were all through, she pulled the door shut. A soaking rain blew in through the empty window frame. They crawled past Zoey’s painting, down the ladder, and into the hold, where they huddled together against the thick planks of the hull. Lhasa curled up next to them.

  “What’s going to happen to us, Zoey?” Eliot wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. He looked cold and scared. “Maybe the ocean will come all the way up here and take our boat and we’ll float away and….”

  “Shhhhh…. that’s not going to happen, Eliot.” But Zoey wondered if it actually could.

  The wind sounded even angrier now, and the old hull twitched as though it too might blow away. Zoey knew someone would come to look for them eventually, but she also knew it was too windy for Patrick to fly. He and her mom would have to wait out the storm in Dillingham.

  What happened to them now was up to Zoey. The wind and rain didn’t care. Not about the tent, not about them, not about her screwed up family. Not about the boats or the fishing nets, and certainly not about pilots like Patrick in their bargain-basement airplanes who thought they could fly around this wild place whenever they wanted. The silly pilots who thought they were in control.

  Ever since Zoey, Eliot, and their mom left Colorado and her dad, it had seemed as if their lives had been thrashed around like a blown up tent. And now Bristol Bay itself felt like it might get torn up and tossed aside by a force so powerful nothing could control it.

  The old boat smelled of mold, rotting wood, and wet dog. A dreary light sifted through cracks in the planking. Water began to pool on the floor.

  Eliot shivered and his lips looked purple. He found one of Zoey’s shells on the floor and threw it hard. It hit the wall and smashed into tiny pieces. His voice was loud and angry. “It’s not fair.” Lhasa moved away.

  “Who do you think lived on this boat?” Zoey asked, mostly to get Eliot’s mind off the storm. “Do you think they had kids?”

  Eliot shivered again, but didn’t answer. She put her arms around him and tried to warm him up. Then she thought of something that might help even more. She got up, crossed to the other side of the tiny space, and brought back the paints she had stored there when she decorated the cabin. In the weak light, she began to paint on the wood planks beside them: a pair of big rubber boots, then legs, then a raincoat.

  “See, Eliot, here’s the fisherman.” She painted a scraggly looking face.

  “And this is his wife.” The next figure looked a bit like their mom.

  “And here is their little girl.” She painted in two blonde pigtails.

  “They all lived in the boat together. The little girl had a special boat-bed that hung on ropes so the waves would rock her to sleep.”

  She dipped the brush in the burnt sienna and quickly added a little cradle.

  “Her dad was extra careful when he drove the boat so it wouldn’t wake his little girl.”

  Zoey squinted at the painting. “Do you want to add something?” She handed the brush and palette to Eliot.

  It was working. Eliot stopped shivering, grabbed the brush, and painted a stick figure of a boy with messy hair. “The family also had a little boy.”

  “Definitely,” Zoey said, taking the brush back. “And when that boy grew up, he got married and started a family of his own. And now they live a long way from here in a big … big … house.” Zoey finished a large, solid square and started on the roof.

  “Not a tent,” Eliot said with a laugh.

  The square took shape, and soon it looked a lot like their old house in Colorado. “And they never, ever, ever ate fish again,” Zoey finished.

  Eliot and Zoey were both smiling. Then Eliot drew out of his pocket the little billiken he had gotten in Dillingham. “Do you have yours, Zo?”

  “Sorry, left mine in the tent. I guess we’ll have to depend on yours. Remember she said to rub its belly for luck.”

  “I know, Zo.” Eliot rubbed and rubbed.

  “There. We’re going to be okay,” Eliot said confidently, tucking his good luck charm back in his pocket.

  Zoey closed her paint box and sat in the driest corner she could find. Eliot joined her, and she patted the space in front of them for Lhasa. The dog curled up on their feet and put her head on Eliot’s lap. Much warmer.

  “Zo, do you think Dad knows where we are?”

  “I don’t know, Eliot.”

  “Why doesn’t he write us or visit?”

  “I don’t think he’s forgotten about us. He’s probably just really busy. He doesn’t know about everything that’s happening here.”

  “He would tell Patrick to make a better tent, huh.”

  “Don’t worry, Eliot. I’m going to tell Patrick to make a better tent.”

  “But how are they even going to get back and find us in this storm?”

  “All storms end sometime, Eliot, and this one will too.”

  Eliot leaned on Zoey and stroked Lhasa’s head. “I miss Dad.”

  Zoey made a sort of pillow out of Eliot’s hood to cradle his head. “Me too. But we’re going to be okay.”

  After a while, the moaning wind and battering rain felt almost like a lullaby, and they drifted off to sleep—first Lhasa, then Eliot, then Zoey—all woven together in a knot of arms and legs and wet dog hair.

  Early the next morning, a hand tickled Zoey’s cheek.

  She opened her eyes and saw Thomas sitting next to her. “Wasn’t sure if you were really breathing,” he whispered.

  Zoey rubbed her eyes. The storm noises were gone. A few rays of sunlight broke through the cracks in the planking. She gently moved away from Eliot and closer to Thomas. “How did you know we were here?”

  “The wind didn’t seem too bad inside our Quonset but when I woke up and saw that Patrick’s plane wasn’t back, I figured they were stuck in Dillingham. So I went to check on you.”

  “How does our camp look?”

  “Not so good. You better come back to our place and get dry while you wait for them.”

  Zoey looked at her sleeping brother. “Could we maybe let him sleep a little longer? He’s been through a lot.” She could feel Thomas’s warmth seeping through her jacket into her chilled shoulder.

  “Bet I don’t look like a city girl today,” she said, trying to smooth down her wind-blown hair.

  Thomas just stared at her, surprise in his eyes. “You know, that ‘city girl’ crack I made was a long time ago. I don’t think about you that way. At least not anymore.” He looked down at the floor.

  “And I shouldn’t have said what I did on your birthday,” he continued, “about ‘getting over’ your dad.”

  Zoey put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay.” Thomas looked at her again, softer this time.

  “Hey, when I saw your camp, I was really worried. It’s a mess. That wind must have been really strong. How’d you get up here?”

  “We were trying to get to your place but we got lost, and we ended up here instead.” She fiddled with the zipper on her jacket.

  “Thomas, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you still miss your dad?”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “Yeah, all the time. When it first happened, I didn’t talk to anyone for…
.”

  Zoey interrupted. “What was it, Thomas? What happened?” She paused.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it but I’ve been talking all summer about my dad. So, it’s really your turn.”

  Thomas gave her a sideways grin. Zoey felt like she could almost see an argument going on inside him while he tried to decide what he should say.

  “Well, when you put it like that.” He sort of shrank away from her then sat very still.

  She waited.

  “After all the years of going out in bad boats, bad weather, and everything, it was really kind of stupid. He wasn’t even commercial fishing. It was the most important thing for him to bring food home for his family. Fishing, hunting. That’s just what he did. Last spring he went over to Togiak for herring. As usual the weather was crappy. He was pulling in a set and the boat rolled or something and he got thrown over.”

  A long silence.

  “He never surfaced. Divers brought him up the next day. Said he got tangled in the gear.”

  Zoey was speechless. She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm.

  “He didn’t have his knife with him, so he couldn’t cut loose. It wasn’t like him to not have it.”

  Another pause. “I always wear my knife now. Everywhere.”

  Zoey leaned closer to Thomas and moved her hand to the back of his. He didn’t pull it away.

  “It’s taken me a while to get back into things. For a while I pretty much stopped talking to anybody. I spent a lot of time with Captain just doing the carving. It’s a lot better now, but I just don’t feel like hanging out with my friends from town like I used to. They just seem, I don’t know, pretty young. Anyway my mom needs me.”

  He slipped his hand from under Zoey’s and ran it through his hair. “So, I understand how you miss your dad. Patrick seems okay. But I know you have to do what feels right for you.”

  Zoey wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but the words popped out on their own.

  “I hated it when we weren’t talking. Picking the net was torture. Or maybe worse torture.” They both smiled. “I like it better when we’re friends.”

  This time Thomas took her hand and squeezed. A warmth rushed all the way down to Zoey’s toes. She avoided his eyes and let a delicious feeling take her. For a long moment the boat was her whole world.

  Then a new sound. Outside. Lhasa scrambled to her feet and her ears twitched. An airplane!

  “They’re back! Eliot, wake up! We’ve gotta go.”

  Thomas seemed about to say something, then he turned and ruffled Eliot’s hair. “Hey, Eliot. It’s morning.”

  Eliot sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  “They’re back, Eliot! Hurry! They won’t know where we are and they’ll be worried sick.”

  Zoey took a step toward the ladder, then spun around and kissed Thomas on the cheek. “Thanks, Thomas. For everything!”

  She scrambled out of the boat and raced toward the beach. She could still hear the plane, and it was definitely landing. Thomas and Eliot would have to catch up.

  29

  After the Storm

  Zoey wasn’t even halfway down the hill when she saw her mom walking toward her. She sprinted the rest of the way, threw her arms around her, and squeezed. Her mom pulled her head back and looked her over carefully.

  “Zoey,” her eyes were extra big. “Thank goodness, you’re all right! Where’s Eliot?”

  Zoey took a shaky breath. “Eliot and Thomas are right behind me. Everyone’s fine. Eliot and I slept in the boat last night.” She hugged her mom again. “I was so afraid, Mom. I didn’t know what happened to you.”

  Then she remembered their camp. “The wind! It blew up our tents!”

  Her mom squeezed her again. “I know, honey. But never mind right now. You and Eliot are safe. That’s the important thing.”

  They held on to each other tightly, neither speaking for a long time.

  Finally, they let go. The sun slipped out from behind a cloud.

  “What happened to you guys?” asked Zoey. “Was it too windy to get back?”

  “We were only supposed to be gone a couple of hours, but once we landed in Dillingham, they closed down the whole airport. No one could take off. I was beside myself with worry. The weather office called it a Japanese typhoon. Winds got to seventy miles an hour.”

  They walked toward the boat. The new day was blustery with puffy clouds, but no sign of the storm.

  “Our tent just ripped right off the platform and blew away,” Zoey told her.

  “We saw the platform from the air. We parked in the regular place near the Gambles. Patrick went to see if you were there. I just took a chance you might be at the boat.” She hugged Zoey again. “Mother’s intuition.” Her green eyes welled up. “I’m so sorry, Zoey. You kept telling me it was a mistake to come here, and you were right.” She wiped at her tears with her sleeve. “I should have listened to you.”

  Before Zoey had a chance to think about how that news made her feel, Eliot ran up, Thomas just behind him.

  Eliot and their mom hugged and then she checked him, too, top to bottom, for any ill effects of the adventure. Words poured out of Eliot as he told her about the wind, the tents, sleeping in the boat, and even about Midnight. Their mother listened to it all, stroking his hair the entire time.

  Finally, as Eliot was winding down, she asked Thomas, “How did you ever find them?”

  “Once I saw the tents, the boat was the only place I could think of to look. But I didn’t really do anything. The storm was over by that time. Zoey’s the one who got them there in one piece.”

  Thomas smiled at Zoey. “If you’re not careful, she’s going to turn into a Bristol Bay Girl.” Zoey smiled back.

  Together they walked to the forlorn campsite. Patrick soon joined them with Carolyn and Harold along to help. Carolyn invited the Morleys to sleep over until they figured out what they were going to do.

  And the damage! Zoey couldn’t believe it. The big tent lay soggy and limp across the platform. Everything that had been neatly stacked under the kitchen awning was either blown away or scattered across the beach. The sealed five-gallon totes of food had survived, but everything in cardboard boxes was soaked, and some things like books and the kerosene lantern were just gone. Washed away in the surf maybe. They found Patrick’s rifle half buried in the sand.

  They searched and they searched, but they couldn’t find even a scrap of the pup tent.

  Where is it? Did it blow out to sea?

  Zoey hated to think that all her belongings—her carving stuff, her new sweatshirt, her birthday necklace—might be drifting slowly across the ocean toward Japan. And what about the letters she wrote to her dad? Zoey’s stomach churned. Those letters were her only link with him.

  They collected as much loose gear as they could carry and lugged it to the Quonset hut. It took most of the day hunting and digging in the sand to find the bits and pieces of what, just a day ago, had been their home. Late in the afternoon, hungry and tired, they made their last trek and returned to the Gambles. They ate a quick dinner, then Carolyn found enough blankets and sleeping bags for everyone. The guys would sleep out in the generator shed, and the women and Eliot inside the hut. Tomorrow they would search again for the pup tent and figure out what to do.

  Meanwhile, Harold made sure to remind them, the salmon would be back soon and someone really ought to catch them and fly them into Dillingham. The salmon didn’t care about the storm or the missing tent.

  In the middle of the night, Zoey lay awake in one of the Gambles’ old sleeping bags. It smelled … comfortable. But she couldn’t sleep—too many worries flying around her head—so she listened to the sleeping sounds around her and thought about going back to Anchorage. Why wasn’t she more excited about that idea?

  She thought of Claudia in The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Claudia wouldn’t go home until she unraveled the secret about Michelangelo. Zoey had a secret to unravel too, but her
s was in Colorado, not Anchorage. Going to Anchorage wasn’t part of her plan. In Anchorage she doubted they would let a thirteen-year-old buy her own plane ticket. But out here it seemed like no one really cared. There were too many bigger things to worry about. One way or another she was determined to get to Colorado, and her best chance still seemed like starting from Bristol Bay.

  Zoey sat upright. She wasn’t one bit tired. Instead of her problems being solved, they were getting more complicated. And she was running out of time. She would need to work a few more days to get the rest of the money for the trip. And to do that, she had to convince her mom to let her stay a while longer. If she could convince her, she was sure she could talk Thomas into another trip to Naknek, and from there she could find her own way to King Salmon.

  It could work. It had to. If it didn’t, her dad might be out of her life forever.

  30

  An Uncertain Good-bye

  Kenai’s wild barking and the yeasty smell of sourdough pancakes finally put an end to Zoey’s fitful sleep. Then voices. Carolyn and her mom. Zoey kept her eyes closed but listened hard.

  “You know, Carolyn, it’s too late in the season for us to set up the whole camp all over again. Patrick’s going to fly us into Dillingham where we’ll catch the jet to Anchorage. Of course he’ll stay as long as you need him.”

  “I certainly understand, but we’ll sure miss you around here. You’re welcome to move in here with us if you’d rather stay.” Zoey’s mom didn’t answer, but blew her nose. Was she crying?

  Zoey sat up in the middle of the unfamiliar floor. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. Eliot was already up and setting the table as Carolyn poured coffee. Their mom flipped pancakes on the gas stove.

  Zoey wiggled a foot in the bottom of the sleeping bag feeling around for her pants. Just as Thomas walked in, she hooked the pants, reached down, and pulled them on without letting the sleeping bag slip below her chin. She was getting good at that!